Change The World

When we have children We want to Well Bring them up well We have to be aware, though, that They are Not clay to be moulded into pots Nor pots to be filled by us Think of Gardens to be tended

I wear my privilege On me Like an endi shawl Wrapped tightly About my shoulders To keep out the cold But just as An endi shawl Can wrap itself around And warm More than one person I find that I can

Flipping through the pages of An alumni magazine I bumped into (Admittedly electronically) A co-author And found him to be An old friend Oi Birdie Hey Svai The shouts rang out (Admittedly